Collateral
by Allicat9
Summary: It's been thirty years since the first Hunger Games was played, and in those thirty years the people of District Nine have watched fifty seven of thier children die.It's time for the 30th anual Hunger Games to begin. May the odds be ever in your favor.
1. Chapter 1

_**Collateral: the 30**__**th**__** annual Hunger Games**_

**Chapter 1-Hunting**

The sweat that gathered at my brow slowly dripped down my face, eventually joining the shallow puddles that had formed in the ridges of my collar bones. The desert sun beat down on my face, the wind whipping sand into my half closed eyes, and yet I remained as I was, standing in the middle of the desert, staring up at the sky with my bucket. Hating my life.

No, I didn't hate it. I had a lot to be grateful for considering. Both my parents were alive (which is more then some kids around here could say), and it hadn't yet been deemed necessary for them to go under. But I knew that soon, maybe not today, or tomorrow, but soon, the Peacekeepers would come knocking, and one of them would leave forever. I knew how horrible life was for those left behind. My best friend's father had been taken and she didn't eat for about a week after. Not because she was depressed or anything-but because her family had no food. Dahlia was the oldest of five, which was an exorbitantly large number of kids for Nine, and the younger ones had to eat first. You know how it is. That's why I have no siblings, well, unless you count Ohlick as a sibling. Which I do. But even he sometimes has to go hungry, because when you live in a place where nothing ever grows, where food is so scarce that the population can be counted in hundreds, the less food has to be divided, the better.

"Cassie?" a voice called me back from my musings, slamming me back into my body, rather harshly, and reminding me of the task a head.

"What Liss?" I replied, still not turning to look at the tiny woman behind me.

"Oh, nothing." She laughed nervously, probably in response to my tone, though I couldn't be sure because I still hadn't looked at her, "Just looked like you spaced for a second, sorry."

"No problem Liss, I'm fine." I brushed away the sweaty hair from my brow, finally turning to her and flashing what I hoped to be a convincing smile. I don't know what it was, but something about Liss just bugged me to no end. She was nice enough I guess, we had known each other since I could remember, and she had lived next door to me for just as long. We had gone all through school together, even sat next to each other because our last names began with the same letter. Our parents were best friends for God's sake! Yet, despite all that, we were never close. We had been nothing but coolly pleasant to each other in all the time we had been acquainted. I wouldn't have even counted her among my group of friends if it wasn't for the long afternoons we spent together roaming the desert in search of something we almost never found.

"Okay, well do you want to get to work?" she smiled brightly, swiping a loose strand of yellow-gold hair out of her eyes.

"Yeah." I replied shortly, trying to resist the urge to smack the crap out of her. "I'll go north today, you take the eastern-'

"Perimeter," she finished, "Done and done."

"Okay, now lets review…"

"Oh Cass, I know the rules!" She laughed cutting me off yet again, and dismissing me with a wave of one small hand. As her hand moved, her perfectly polished nails caught the sun light and I was reminded, yet again, of how much I disliked her. I couldn't resist a glance at my own nails, bloody and broken, chewed to a pulp, and had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from snapping at her.

"Yeah, we both do, but let's review just in case."

"Uhh Cassie, your such a stiff." She rolled her eyes, but, thankfully, complied without further complaint, perhaps sensing my tension.

"Okay, not too far from the nearest marker."

"Got it." She echoed in a mock-serious tone.

I turned to glare at her.

"Okay, Okay!" she held up her hands as a sign of defeat "I'll take it seriously!"

"Do you think this is a joke?" I asked, my inexplicable anger rising to the surface.

"No."

"Oh, good." I said in a overly sugary tone, "because I don't either. People have_ died_ out there Liss, so unless you want to come back on the back of a Peacekeeper's wagon with half you face chewed off, I suggest you take the time to listen to the god-damn rules!"

She cowered under my gaze, and it was only then that I became aware of how close I was to her face. I liked that she was scared, she should be. Today of all days she should be just a terrified as the rest of us were. She shouldn't get not to feel this, this overwhelming panic that settled comfortably in our stomachs, clawing at our insides, begging us to scream.

And just like that, my day was ruined.

I sighed and turned my back on her, "You know what? Whatever. Your right, you know the rules."

"Really?" she asked, tentatively grabbing her bucket and standing once again.

"Yeah, just be careful, alright?" But before I could even finish the sentence she was gone, running off across the desert without a second glance back.

I sighed once more, and shook my head, trying to clear my clouded thoughts. I picked up my bucket and began to head North West towards the low mountain ridges in the distance that never seemed to get closer no matter how far you went. As I walked I scanned the ground, trying to loose myself in the sand. There had been a lightning storm recently, and Dad and Mr. Novel always sent Liss and me out afterwards to look for lightning glass, though we almost never found it. But we did it because it helped. It helped keep our fathers in business; it helped keep our families together, so we tried.

District nine was the glass- making district. All the Capitol's glass was made right here in D9 in dark underground factories, where the workers were almost never allowed to sleep and were kept working continuously. No one went down to the factories willingly. Once a person went down there, it was months; perhaps years before their families saw them again. If they saw them again. Many of those who went down never came back up. Probably poisoned. Glass making can be toxic if not done correctly. My father was one of the few glassmakers who still made glass by hand. His designs were popular enough to shake up some demand in the capital for hand made glass, which had kept him and his business partner (Liss' father) out of the factories. But there are so few of us in nine that eventually, the peacekeepers come to take anyone of working age down.

That's where I'll have to go. Underground. Where it's damp and dark and cold. So far away from my sun, my heat. That is, if I survive today.

I shy away from those thought as quickly as they enter my head. I would not dwell on what was to come. As I looked down at the ground, something shiny caught my eye. It looked like gray, crystal bubbles had formed atop the sand.

_Bingo!_ I thought as I reached to pick it up. It was warm, but whether that was still left over from the lightning or from the sun, I couldn't say. I suspected the latter, however. It was strange to have something that you had searched for for so long, resting in your hand. A beautiful little victory in a world ruled by repression. As I dropped the glass in my bucket, I, for the first time in a long time, felt a bit better about everything. One word-Mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two- The End**_

Reaping Day wasn't exactly something people looked forward to in Nine. We had only won once in the twenty nine years since the Rebellion. The Games were not an opportunity to show off a tributes beauty or athletic skill. No, they meant a swift and sure death sentence. Because we were so small, everyone either knew or was related to someone that had been a tribute. My father's baby brother had been a twelve year old tribute in the fourteenth Games. My dad would never tell me how he died. In fact, he never mentioned the Games at all unless it was unavoidable. Even though it was mandatory viewing for the entire nation, when they were on, my father would sit in the kitchen and stare out the window until they were done for the day. My mother told me he just didn't have the stomach for it.

It was funny though, even though it was my father who couldn't bear to watch the Games, it was my mother who had a panic attack every Reaping Day since I was twelve. She always said she wasn't going to cry, an every time she did. I really wished she wouldn't. The odds were never in anyone's favor for Nine, because virtually everyone had to sign up for a tresserae, and there aren't that many names to choose from. The likelihood of my name getting drawn was high already, but her crying all over the place just made everything so much worse.

As I walked home in the dusky light, I thought about what tomorrow would bring. It wasn't that I thought I would be chosen- I had just about as much chance as anyone, and tomorrow was my last reaping-but what if it was Dahlia, or little Norma, or even Liss? I knew I could never bring myself to volunteer for them, but I couldn't watch them die either. It didn't really matter though, whoever it was I would know, and the Games this year promised to be just assuredly as unbearable as the rest.

As I neared my house, my mother's frantic voice reached my ears.

"She's never gone this long Matthias, something _must_ have happened to her."

"I went to see Richard," my dad's calm low voice overrode the sound of my mother's high pitched one, "He said that Liss isn't home yet either. I'm sure their fine Ella." I could almost see him taking my mother's hand as he spoke.

"I don't know Matt," my mother whispered, "I have that bad feeling again, I don't know if it's because of tomorrow, or what, but I just can't shake the feeing that Cassie is going to be taken from us soon."

"Nonsense Eleanor, Cassie's a big girl; she's been out in the dessert since she was a little girl, she knows it like the back of her hand.' He paused, "and tomorrow is her last reaping- after tomorrow we'll never have to worry about her again."

I decided that it was time to break up the little heat to heart. One, because it was scaring me hearing my parents talk like that, and two, I didn't want to cause them any more anxiety. We didn't have a front door on our little, one story, clay shack, so when I walked through the door the effect was immediate.

_ "Oh Cassie!_ My mother shrieked, practically launching herself across the room in order to hug me.

"Mom, god, mom-" I tired to speak, but her hug was literally making it hard to draw air into my lungs.

Apparently hearing my protests, she suddenly pulled back, "Don't you ever to that again to me Cassandra Ellis," she scolded, "I was out of my mind with worry."

"Which, as you know, is nothing unusual." My father teased, standing from his chair at the kitchen table.

My mom shot him the Look.

"Oh Ella," my father laughed, "You know I was just teasing."

"Well don't." My mother responded in the clipped tone she only used when she was upset, "I am not being unreasonable-a mother is allowed to worry!" she exclaimed, before turning on her heel and walking to her room. I think it would have been funny- my tiny little mother getting so flustered she turned an unflattering shade of red and scolding my over six foot father. Yes, it would have been funny, if I had not seen the tears in her eyes as she turned away. My father must have seen them too, for when he spoke it was soft and subdued.

"I think you should get some rest now Cass. Big day tomorrow."

I lifted my head to look at him. He tried to smile as our eyes met, but the expression did not quite reach his eyes.

"I love you bud." He whispered as he walked towards me, pulling me into one of his signature crushing hugs.

"I love you too dad." I whispered back, lifting my arms to return his embrace.

We stood there in silence for a few minutes as the sun light faded from the kitchen and the shadows grew longer as dusk drew to a close and night approached.

Finally, he pulled back, pushed the hair back from my face and kissed me gently on the forehead, before walking past me to his room. I stood there for a few moments, staring out the pane less window into the starry night. Then I turned and walked to my bedroom, lying down on the blanket less cot in the far corner. Ohlick, faithful snuggler that he was, jumped up without any prompting and nestled into my side.

As I ran my fingers through his course fur and stared at the ceiling, trying to will myself to fall asleep, I all I could hear were my mother's words playing over and over in my head. _I just can't shake the feeing that Cassie is going to be taken from us soon._

And the more I thought about her words, the more I couldn't help but feel that somehow, some part of my life had come to an end.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter Three-Mistake **_

"Come on Cassie."

I didn't move.

"Cassie, come on."

I pretended I hadn't heard her.

"Cassie, seriously, you have to move."

I remained as I was. Feet planted firmly, arms crossed, staring blankly out into the dessert. I chanced a look at Liss out of the corner of my eye. She was frustrated, but trying not to show it. I tried to care, but I didn't. She obviously didn't know what I was going through. Today might very well be the last time I look out at the rising sun over the dessert. It's the most beautiful thing in the world, and I might never see it again. It's a strange concept to me.

My inner musings were interrupted(very rudely I might add) by Liss, who chose that moment to launch herself upon me in an effort to shake me from my reflection. We tumbled to the ground in a tangle of Liss' golden curls. I got a mouthful of hair, and she got a mouthful of dirt. Fair trade I guess.

"Uhh, Cassie," she groaned, sitting up and spitting out as much dist as she can, "Why do you always do this?"

"Always do what?" I snapped, just as irritably, standing and brushing off the front of my dress.

"This," she gestured to me, standing as well, "This whole miserable, miss- understood thing. It's kind of pissing me off." She spat out impressive dirt colored lougie.

"Well forgive me if I'm not exactly singing show tunes. We can't all be as chipper as you when faced with our impending deaths." I sneered as I turned away from her and began walking towards town.

"You're so negative Cassie." She huffed as she struggled to catch up. Struggled because one of my steps was twice as long as one of hers and her head could just barley clear my shoulder.

"The likely hood of you getting chosen is slim to none you know." She said when she had caught up.

I responded with a grunt.

"No it's true!" she exclaimed, interpreting my grunt as decent. "Think about it, this is you last reaping, you don't have any brothers or sisters, so you only had to sign up for the tresserae once, and there are more girls then boys in the District anyway."

"Only twenty more."

"Yeah, but that's not my point. What I'm trying to say is that you slips are three in hundreds-you'll be fine."

And even though I couldn't stand the girl, I had to admit that her words made me feel a little better.

We rounded the corner and entered the town. Well, not so much a town as a clump of ill made wooden shacks in the center of what was considered District Nine. Most of our population lived here being as it was the entrance to the factories and, in the dessert there was safety in numbers. Those who ventured more then ten miles away from the town were taking a huge risk, not only with their lives, but with their families as well. Most were not foolish enough to attempt it, but there were always a few. And those were the few that were usually dragged back moths later on the Peacekeepers wagons, dead from starvation, dehydration, snakebites or disease. Bottom Line-if you wanted to die, leaving town was a sure way to do it.

When we reached the town square, people were already milling about. The stage was already set up at the steps of the Justice Building and two Peacekeepers were attempting to hook up the microphone to the electric cables that ran inside the building. Only the Justice Building had electricity in Distinct Nine. There was no need to set up fences because there was no where for anyone to go and we had twice the number of Peacekeepers a population of our size required. Electricity was something I had only ever read about in school, it was not a reality for me, and hopefully it never would be.

My parents and Mr. and Mrs. Novel had left before we had, and were now standing on the right side of the Justice building next to the stage. My mother looked as though she had been crying, and, in response, my stomach began to knot, as it did every time my mother was upset. Mr. and Mrs. Novel had their young son Andrew with them. He was maybe eight now, and he looked exactly like a younger, boy Liss. He smiled and waved at us, beckoning us over.

Liss immediately complied to his silent request, leaving my side at once and skipping across the square to join her family. But I hesitated. It wasn't that I didn't love my parents, but every reaping day I was hesitant to spend time with them, because I knew there was a chance that my name could come out of that reaping ball. Plus, I couldn't handle my mother's tears.

Luckily I was spared from having to make a decision, because Dahlia choose that moment to materialize at my side.

"Hey." I smiled, turning to face her.

It took a lot of effort to keep that smile on my face as I took her appearance in. I knew she and her family were struggling, in fact I had shared my lunch with her at school every day after her father passed. But Dahlia had disappeared from school a few weeks before. It was not until I went to her house looking for her that I had discovered where she went. Dahlia had gone under, taking the substantial bonus the District paid to anyone willing to go into the factories before they were eighteen.

Though it may have saved her family from starvation, it hadn't benefited Dahlia any. She looked horrible. Her once tanned skin had turned an ugly shade of greenish gray and hung off of her frail frame. Her eyes were sunken in, her dark hair was matted and her once round and expressive face had taken on a hardened appearance. She looked as if she hadn't eaten, let alone slept, in days.

Her eyes met mine for a moment, before quickly shooting to the ground and, impossibly, her expression hardened further.

"I don't want your pity." She muttered, still staring determinedly at the ground.

"Who said I had any to give?" I replied mildly, forcing myself not to stare at her emaciated face for too long, "I'm wallowing in an abundance of self pity at the moment and I just don't think I have any left to spread around."

Her expression softened into what I guessed what was supposed to be surprise, but before she could speak I cut her off, "I don't care Doll, it's your decision, your life, but I'm here if you need me."

Her face relaxed and she smiled. Well I guessed it was a smile.

"Oh there you are!"

I knew the voice well, and wasn't surprised to see Dahlia's face completely shut down. We stayed standing where we were however, and were quickly surrounded by what seemed to be a small village of giggling, squirming midgets and their exhausted looking herder.

"Dahlia darling where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you." Dahlia's mother exclaimed, picking up Dahlia's four year old brother Daniel and holding him tight to her chest.

She seemed completely oblivious to her eldest daughter's appearance, or she just didn't care. Either way, she didn't mention it or even appear to be apologetic in any way. As I looked at the unusually tall woman, who, up till now, I'd liked, I couldn't help but wonder at her complete lack of empathy. What mother would allow her own daughter to take her place in the factories? It wasn't like the conditions down there were a secret. Everyone knew how horrible it was, and yet she had thrown her own daughter to the preverbal wolves.

"I'm fine mother, how are you?" Dahlia responded quietly.

Her mother began to ramble about inconsequential things, and Dahlia "Mmm-humph"ed and nodded at the appropriate times. As I watched them, I couldn't help but marvel at my friend. Did she hate her mother? Or did she simply feel nothing all for the woman who was supposed to protect her from anything and everything. Or did she still, after everything, love her? It was impossible for me to say.

My eyes were drawn away from Dahlia and her mother and to Dahlia's siblings. Daniel was still in his mother's arms, playing with her hair. Caroline and Peter, nine and six respectively, were engaged in a particularly intense game of tag. As I watched them, I was filled with a familiar sense of longing. As a child I had always wished for siblings, other kids with whom I could play and talk to on a regular basis. But as my eyes found Norma who looked clean and pretty, if stoic, I was reminded why that was not a good thing. Today was Norma's very first reaping, and, because she had taken the tresserae for all of her siblings not including Dahlia, the odds were not in her favor. I knew that I she was chosen it would be unbearable for me to watch, and if it would be unbearable for me, I could only imagine what it would be like for her siblings.

Peacekeepers suddenly flooded the square-a signal for everyone to take their places. Dahlia and I were herded to the back of the girl's pen, where we were soon joined by Liss. I couldn't find my parents in the crowd, and, even as I searched, I knew I didn't want to. It was silent as Mayor Pulvaris ascends the stage. It was silent as he began the Treaty of Treason. It was silent as he paused before announcing District Nine's escort, a tiny squeaky woman by the name of Ramona Honeyworth.

Silence is a special talent of the people of District Nine. On reaping day you could literally hear a pin drop. It sounds as though the crowed isn't breathing, and everyone is nearly perfectly still. Ramona used to be offended by our silence, thinking that we were being to uptight about sending our children off to inevitable slaughter. In fact she used to complain about it every year. But it's been years and she's long since given up on us, declaring District Nine the most boring District EVER…well besides Twelve.

As she thanked the mayor and ascended the stage, my eyes were drawn to a small man standing at the foot of the stair to the platform. He was slight, about forty, and stood just out of view form the majority of the crowed, head bowed, shoulders slumped. I watched him, fascinated, for I knew that I was looking at Elder Quinn, winner of the forth annual Hunger Games and District Nine's only champion. He was rarely seen in Nine except at reaping times, and I had never heard him speak. I couldn't imagine how difficult in must have been for him, to watch his districts tributes be slaughtered year after year after he came to know them, mentored them and pinned all his faith on them. I shook my head, no, I couldn't imagine.

Ramona reached the podium and seized the microphone with unusual enthusiasm, her three inch long nails clicking annoyingly against the plastic. Maybe she was up for a promotion, I mused.

"Hello District Nine!" she squealed into the mic, her voice reaching a pitch previously unknown to man. "Welcome tributes to the Thirtieth Annual Hunger Games!"

She paused, as though expecting the wild cheer escorts were greeted by in Districts like One, Two, and Four, but was met with, as usual, silence.

"Well…okay." She sniffed, flicking her short blonde bob behind her ear, "Let the Reaping's begin, and," she paused again to wink at all the tributes, "May the odds be ever in your favor!"

She grinned out into the audience, appearing to expect a laugh. Again, nothing but a slightly colder silence as the people of District Nine stared at her blankly.

"Right. Well, let's get on with it then, " Ramona giggled, swallowing nervously, "Gentleman first this time!"

She skipped to the boy's glass ball, thrusting her hand in and pulling a single slip of white paper.

"Nathan Pipe?"

Nothing. Nobody moved to take the stage.

Ramona tried again, "Nathan Pipe?"

And still nobody stepped forward.

As Ramona was about to call out the name for the third time, a boy stumbled out of the crowed of fourteens, having been pushed by one of his fellows. His face was already wet with tears and he visibly trembled as he ascended the stairs, ugly sobs catching in his throat. He needed to stop that, one look and I could already tell he was an easy kill, and I wasn't even a Career.

When he reached the stage, Ramona asked for volunteers, and, once again, was met with silence. The boy –Nathan- had briefly looked up, hoping for someone to be brave enough to replace him, but just as quickly he lowered his head, realizing that it was in vain. We were tightly knit in Nine, but not that tightly knit.

"Poor Nathan." Liss whispered, tears in her eyes, reaching out to grab my hand, as though for support. I let her, because I too felt pity for the crying boy on the stage.

Ramona cleared her throat trying, no doubt, to draw attention away from the distressed boy, aware of how pathetic she would look in the Capital.

"All right then, Ladies-your up!" she cheered, and stuck her hand into the girl's jar coming up with an identical slip of white paper.

"Cassandra Ellis!"

Everything grinds to a halt. It's blurry, so blurry, yet how can everything be so still at the same time? My mother's blood curtailing shrieks filled my ears, and Liss's hold on my arm had constricted, becoming painfully tight. I shook free of her and stepped forward, because, really, what more was there to do at that point?

I tried to feel my face as I walk up the steps to the stage, to sense what kind of image I was portraying to the audience. But I felt nothing. All I knew was that my features were frozen, though in what expression I could not tell.

As I reached my place beside the crying boy, Ramona began saying something to the audience, having to work to be heard over my mother's screams. I didn't try to find them in the crowned; sure I would come apart if my eyes met my father's. Instead I look out across the silent masses. They stared back at me with no emotion. Scratch that. Liss had tears in her eyes and Dahlia was openly crying, but everyone else looked at me, the newest victim of the Games, with nothing in their eyes but resignation. I knew all of them, many since I was a young child, and they had already given up on me, they had already let me go. And as I looked out across the dessert, out over the hills which my mother's screams echoed off of, I knew that there was absolutely no hope. I was going to die. But I was at least going to give them all a good show.

_**Please review-any tips would be welcome!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Four- The Beginning **_

The Peacekeepers converged on us as soon as Nathan and I shook hands. Rough hands grabbed at me from all sides, practically carrying me in the Justice building. I didn't fight or protest. There was no point. Kids had tried it in the past. Clawing, desperate kids who saw escape in the desert. But it always failed and it only made you look weak. I was not weak. I would not them make me seem weak.

I was "escorted" to a small room on the left with a door and carpet. I made a note of those amenities, being as I had never seen them outside of the school building before. The Peacekeepers left me alone without a word, not that I had expected anything different from them. It was an accepted rule in Nine. The Peacekeepers were not anyone's friends. It was us versus them. They were not here to protect us; they were here to repress us. We accepted that they were evil; they accepted that we were uncivilized slaves. It made it easier for everyone.

The door opened revealing my parents in the doorway. My father had his arms around my mother, and he seemed to be the only thing that kept her standing. She was still crying, the sobs violently shaking her small frame. As soon as she saw me, she was in the room, pulling me to her chest and rocking me, whispering that everything was going to be okay, it was all going to be fine, I was going to win; everything would work out in the end. My father said nothing, and for that, I was grateful. He wasn't going to lie to me; he wasn't going to tell me I was going to win. He wasn't going to try and convince me of something impossible just to make himself feel better. No, instead he was going to sit next to me, hold my free hand, and just be.

My father had always known what I needed. Even now, as I gazed at him over my mother's shoulder, I could see that he wanted to do nothing more then cry. But I knew he wouldn't because of me. Because he was being strong for me and my mother. I knew this was hard for him. Not only was he loosing his only child, but he was loosing his legacy. When he died, there wouldn't anyone to take over the shop. The shop had been in his family for generations, at it was going to be my job, when he died, to come up from the factories, and run it. He had passed all his knowledge on to me, and I was going to die. Now, he could only hope that my mother died before him, because there would be no one to care for her when he died. My mother was to innocent to work in the factories. It would break her.

I couldn't say anything to him, and he could say nothing to me. But we sat; staring at each other over my mother's shaking body until our time was up. My mother put up a bit of a fight, almost clawing out one of the Peacekeeper's eyes in order to get back to me. My father had to literally carry her out of the room, and even then she was struggling. It was not until the door slammed behind them that I realized that that was the last time I'd ever see my parents. And, strangely, I couldn't cry. I wanted to, oh God, I wanted to, but there was something deep inside of me that wouldn't let me let go.

I knew what it was. Some in Nine called it arrogance. My father said it was pride. Yes. I, a poor little reaped girl from District Nine had pride, and I wasn't going to give it up so easily.

Liss entered the room next. Her parents weren't with her. They probably didn't wan to leave Andrew and Mrs. Novel was almost as bad as my mother.

She sat on the chair across from mine. I tried not to make eye contact because she looked at me like I was something alien, out of place. She had known me my whole life and she was staring at me like she had never seen me before. It was…very strange.

We sat in silence for a moment. I didn't expect her to speak. But speak she did.

"Your mother wanted me to give this to you." She said, holding out a clenched fist to me. I held out my hand and she dropped a funny looking pendent in it.

It was an amethyst cross on a long silver chain. I recognized it. My mother had worn it everyday for as long as I could remember. I guessed she had been so distressed she had forgotten to give it to me.

"She didn't have time to give this to you…" Liss said, confirming my suspicions, "But she wanted me to tell you that she loves you very much and she can't wait for you to come home."

"Right." I scoffed under my breath, and barley resisted rolling my eyes.

"Well," Liss said after another moment of silence, "I…I guess this is goodbye then."

She made her way to the door. But before she closed it behind her she turned back for one last look, "Cassie?"

"Yes?"

"Really do try to come back, okay?"

She didn't wait for my reply.

As the door closed behind her with a very final sounding "click", I turned my attention to the necklace still clutched in my hand. My mother had always told me that it had been in our family since before the Great Disasters, when District Nine had been called New Mexico and Arizona. It had survived, being passed down from generation to generation, never being sold off-a miracle all on its own. It had meant something, my mother told me, long ago. It had given people hope. Hope for the hopeless. Well, I was about as hopeless as they came, so I supposed it couldn't hurt and fastened it around my neck.

Dahlia came to see me after that. We didn't say much, it was just me sitting there watching her cry. Her mother and siblings didn't come, not that I expected them to. The kids should not be exposed to a girl sentenced to death. When the Peacekeepers came to escort her out, I stood from my chair and hugged her.

"Be strong Doll-you'll be okay."

"I will." She whimpered, and then she was gone.

The Peacekeepers took me out the back of the Justice Building and stuffed me into a waiting car. I'd never seen one in the District before. It was fast and sleek and cold. Unbearably cold. The Capitol-born driver kept making irritated whiney noises during the trip and turning up the air. It was so cold.

The train station was about twelve miles from town and was swarmed with reporters.

"Cassandra!"

"Cassandra, over here!"

"Cassandra, how do you feel about getting reaped? Do you think you have a chance?"

They're voices turned into meaningless buzzing, all blending together into one hum as the Peacekeepers on either side of me fought through the crowd. They shoved me into the waiting train, the doors closed instantly, and the District Nine train station quickly shrank into the distance.

"Oh thank heavens you're _finally_ here!" Ramona appeared at my side almost at once taking in my rather disheveled appearance with a disapproving cluck of her tongue against her cheek. She seemed like she was trying to sound peppy and excited, but her eyes were accusatory, as though it was my fault that our train was thirty seconds behind.

With one final, judgmental sniff, she beckoned too me and we walked off down the long hall until we got to what was apparently, my room.

The thing was huge. And pink. And sparkly. And even though I knew I would kick myself for it later, I couldn't contain the girlish squeal of delight that escaped from me as I took it all in.

"It's all yours." Ramona said, condescending amusement sparkling in her unnaturally golden eyes, "There's a bathroom on the left, your closets on the right, and dinner is in twenty minutes."

And then I was alone.

I don't remember how I managed to get to the dinging room. All I knew was that I ended up sitting at a long table across from Ramona, Elder and Nathan staring into a bowel of soup twice the size of my head, knowing that it was enough to feed my entire family for at least two days, and not being able to summon up enough energy to even pick up the spoon.

"So what are your talents?" Ramona asked after about ten unbearably awkward minutes where everyone examined their food or hands, or the ceiling more carefully then was called for.

"Talents?" Nathan asked, looking blearily up at her.

"Yes, t_alents_." Ramona answered, speaking to him as though he was a very slow five year old. If there had been any doubt in my mind about the character of Ramona Honeyworth, it was vanished. She was not on my side. She saw me as an inconvenience, a bump on her road to Capitol glory.

"I can spit really far?" Nathan smiled, looking to Ramona for approval. She just snorted and examined her nails.

"I'll do you one better Nathan-I am the current champion of hopscotch."

Everyone turned to look at me. I smiled right at Ramona. We may be weak, but we are not nothing. I hoped that's the message she received. Either way she scoffed, "Hopeless, the both of them!" and stalked away from the table, passing a smiling Elder as she moved.

"Don't listen to a word that woman says." Elder chuckled when she was out of earshot, "She's much more bark then bite-or, in her case, plastic."

It is very rare that someone looks how they sound, but Elder Quinn was the exception. His voice was soft and gentle, his tone could barley qualify as a whisper, and he almost whistled his words. Unlike Ramona, who was loud, obnoxious and colorful, the tiny, gentle man before me was strangely one toned. His skin was brown, his hair was brown and his eyes were brown. The only exceptions were his teeth, which stood out brightly against his neutral skin.

"However, though I know this isn't the most…_ideal_ situation," He leaned back in his chair, "I really must know what your good at, being as it is my primary responsibility to keep you both alive."

He did not say it with malice or irritation of any sort, but I felt a little bad anyway.

"I was being honest." I replied, "I really can't do anything."

"Well I'm not so worried about you, my dear." Elder said, looking me up and down, "I'm sure you'll get sponsors even if you cry through your interview and get a one in training."

'What do you mean?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. My reaping had not been, by any stretch of the imagination, eventful. Well, unless you counted my district partner crying his eyes out and my mother going to pieces as soon as my name was called eventful.

"Just wait until you see the Reaping recap tonight." Elder smiled. "Trust me, you were extraordinary."

Well, well, well. Extraordinary. I knew he was exaggerating, but it was nice to hear all the same.

When dinner is finished we congregated into another large room with a television and three fluffy violet chairs. Nathan and I took the two on the left and right, while Elder occupied the center. Ramona perched herself on the arm of his chair.

I had watched the reapings every year since I had been a young child. But as I watched them as a tribute, my competitors seemed a lot…larger.

The pair from District One could have been siblings. Both tall, blonde and statuesque, the girl with the signature haughty District One glint in her eye, the boy, not so much. He was the better looking of the two, and only volunteered when the chosen tribute turned out to be a terrified looking twelve who seemed on the verge of wetting his pants. She barley let the escort announce the name before bounding up the stage. Despicable.

If District One disgusted me, District Two scared the crap out of me. They were both volunteers, same as one, but they walked up to the stage, not as arrogant showmen, but as trained killers. Both male and female looked as if their biceps had biceps. I knew that either one could(and would) snap my neck given the opportunity. The announcers remarked gleefully that with the two of them in the Games, things were bound to be interesting. Ever and Flash. I remembered their names.

District Three's tributes were, as usual, thin, pale, and terrified. The boy just stared at his feet and the girl, who's glasses made her eyes look about ten times their normal size, couldn't stop shaking. They'd die in the bloodbath for sure.

District Four's tributes were memorable, if not as flashy as the ones from One and Two. The boy was huge and had a scar running along the side of his neck. The girl was passably pretty, but seemingly strong. Neither were volunteers, which was odd considering it was Four. But nothing but the wind answered when their escort called for volunteers.

The pair from five were washed out and average. Six was a little better, the boy looked capable, but still no more then ordinary. Seven was just plain forgettable. Eight was difficult to watch, to say the least. The boy, Alyiss Mark, was apparently the only child left to a frail looking couple, all of whose other children had died in pervious Hunger Games. He was tall and thin and gaunt, but there was a grim determination about him that set him apart. The announcers were very excited about him, saying that it was very rare to have so many tributes in one family.

"_What_ are the _chances_?' the ditzy, pink haired female announcer asked, her outrageous Capitol accent becoming increasingly ridiculous as she spoke.

"Well the odds were certainly _not_ in that family's favor." The blue haired male chortled. And the two of them laughed as though it was the funniest thing in the world that an entire family of six was going to be wiped out. I actually had to force myself to stay put.

Then, the moment of truth. The Reaping of Nine. I watched as my District appeared on the screen. Dusty and decrepit, even more so on television. My prison. My haven. My home. Where I belonged. I could see my parents in the crowd from the angle of the camera, but I tried not to examine them too closely, for fear that I wouldn't be able to control my emotions. Ramona squealed and nearly fell off her chair with delight when a mini, televised her appeared on screen.

"Look at me! Look at me!" She cried bouncing where she sat, "Doesn't my hair look just absolutely perfect. Uhh, and my dress is to DIE for-Chissy will be _soooo_ jealous! I just love this camera angle!"

I had to swallow my vomit.

I turned my attention back to the screen just as Ramona was calling Nathan's name for the third time.

"Oh look, there you are!" Ramona cooed as TV Nathan was shoved out of the crowd. He is visibly crying on stage, and the announcers' remark on how they doubt he will last long.

I heard a sob and turned to see Nathan, was knees pulled up to his chin, tears streaming down his face once more. Elder moved to comfort him, whispering that the announcers didn't know what they were talking about, that they were hardly ever right, that lots of tributes cry, and, anyway, it's only the beginning, there's still plenty of time to make a good impression.

I turned my eyes back to the TV; I didn't want to listen to Elder's lies. Everyone knew that first impressions were extremely important in the Games. They sometimes determined if you were going to get sponsors or not. And Nathan didn't seem like the type to pull of a good score in training, or a fantastic interview, so he was counting on the first impression. He had failed.

Ramona was skipping across the stage to the girl's ball. I watched as my name was pulled and I watched myself walk up to the stage. All ordinary, all expected. But what I didn't expect was the commentary the commentators were giving.

"Isn't she just beautiful?" the woman sighed.

"So rare in District Nine." The man agreed.

"Oh, and look at that smile!" the woman exclaimed. I fallowed her instructions and looked back at the screen. Indeed, my face was stretched into my most winning smile as I practically glided up the steps to the stage.

"She's a contender for sure." The woman declared with certainty, "I mean, look at her, she's made to be seen! She'll be a hit in the Capitol."

"Cassandra Ellis, the Happy Tribute." The man stated with an air of superiority, as though he had just thought of something profound.

It was surreal, hearing myself being spoken of in such a manner. I wasn't stupid. I knew I was pretty. Boys were always interested, but I never paid them any mind. I was content with my life. Happy to just be me. I figured that, eventually, one of the boys in my District would catch my eye and we would get married and have a family. All impossible now. I almost wished I had someone back home. But then I would have wounded another person when I died.

Ten and Eleven passed in a blur, neither made an impression on me. Twelve was just sad. Two tiny, starved twelve year olds were reaped. The escort didn't even bother calling for volunteers, no one ever volunteered in Twelve.

The program ended with a burst of music and a flash of the Capitol seal.

"Well," Elder spoke after a moment's pause, "Time for bed, we'll be at the Capitol in the morning."

Everyone murmured their assent and wandered off towards their various rooms. As I got up to fallow, Elder grabbed my upper arm,

"Cassandra, don't get lazy, you had a great show today, but you've got to seal the deal, make them love you."

'Love me?" I whispered back.

"_Love_ you." He affirmed, "and I can help you do that, but remember, this is only the beginning."

And then he was gone.

As I lay in my too large bed that night, gently swaying as the train moved closer and closer to the Capitol, Elder's words kept running through my mind.

_ "Remember, this is only the beginning."_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Ok, so FYI all characters/ the world of Panem belong to S.C. All original characters belong to me. Oh and plz plz review. My b-day is soon so it can be ur present to me**____**. **_

_**Chapter 5- Hope**_

So I had shot in hell, it was nice to know. But a greater part of me couldn't help but fear that it wouldn't be enough.

We arrived in the Capitol the next morning. When I had gone to bed, we had been passing through dead looking flat land. When I awoke in the morning, we were in fantasy land. The houses were huge, so tall they seemed to touch the clouds, and were roofed with multicolored glass that I recognized as having been made in Nine. When I commented on how tall the houses were, Elder told me they were called _apartments_, and multiple families lived in them at one time. I thought it strange, but then, I hadn't been raised there.

As the train inched along, making it's way into the heart of the city, I tried very hard not to be amazed by each new wonder that was reveled to me though that window. I saw machines that Elder told me dispensed tablets that made you thin. The Capitol people had always looked strange to me on television, but they were nothing compared to the freakish people who were walking down the street. I saw everything from dyed skin to hair that looked like it was a real, working beehive.

The fashions were ridiculous, the lifestyle, laughable, and the city itself was over bright and obnoxious. Yet, I couldn't help but be a little in awe of the graduar of it all. What must it be like to have anything you want at the push of a button? To never have to worry about your next meal? I couldn't imagine that life. But, I had tasted it on the train. And I liked it. The sparkle of the Capitol almost made me forget why it was I was here in the first place. Almost.

We pulled into the station fifteen minutes before we were scheduled to arrive, causing a great deal of commotion on the platform. The train doors opened to reveal what seemed like thousands of screaming Capitol reporters, all clambering to talk to, or in some cases merely catch a glimpse of us, the tributes of District Nine. Ramona, completely ignoring her responsibilities as our escort, stopped to talk to the reporters. Elder helped the stoic Capitol guards push us through the writhing masses and into a waiting car, also with too cold air conditioning, and take us to the Training Center, a place I'd never thought I'd be in a million years.

Our floor was easy enough to remember- nine, just like our home. The rooms were as over the top and stylish as I had come to expect from the Capitol, in fact even more so. It made me uncomfortable to even walk through the halls. It was just too good if you know what I mean. Too clean, too pretty, _too_ _much_. I shuddered to think that the last meal I would get before I died would be served to me here, in golden plates and diamond encrusted forks, instead of at home in my mother's simple kitchen on carved wooden plates.

We had free time, the trains bearing the tributes from Four, Eleven, and Twelve would not arrive until the next morning. I didn't see the tributes from the other Districts. Either they were out enjoying the mob that had surrounded the Training Center, or they were holed up on their rooms. I didn't much care which.

Free time was something I had never had before. I didn't know what to do with myself. So I decided to take a nap. Again, something I had never done. It was nice I suppose. Well, it would have been nice had there not been the impending threat of death looming over my head.

As I drifted off I couldn't help but wish I could hug my parents just once more before I died.

I was awakened, rather rudely, mind you, by a rapping at my door. I ignored it, only to be rewarded by the increased frequency and volume of the rapping. With a sigh, I got up to answer and came face to face with someone who I didn't expect to see.

"Nathan?" I asked in surprise.

Nathan Pipe stood in my doorway covered in sweat, though shivering with cold. I realized that the hallway was dark-I must have slept through dinner.

"Yeah, hi." He whispered, eyes shooting to the ground immediately. "Can I come in?"

"Uhhh, sure." I answered, moving aside so he could enter. As he passed me, my eyes adjusted to the light and I realized what an odd looking kid he was. Average height, underweight, bad skin and curly dark hair that stuck flat to his head. Almost ugly really. But there was a sweet innocence about his that was endearing. I saw it; I just hoped others could as well.

He sat on one of the many unnecessary chairs in my room. Perched on the very edge, nibbling on his lip, it was a while before he spoke.

"I'm sorry…." He began trialing off as he looked up at me, after a moment he said in a rush, "I shouldn't have come here." And made a move to leave.

"No, stay." I urged and pushed him back down into the chair. I didn't want to admit it, but it was nice having someone form home.

"I...I'm just really scared, and I want to go home!" the boy before me whispered, sounding younger then ever.

I pitied him in that moment, because I knew that he wouldn't be going home. But I knew how he felt, because there was a scared little kid inside me at that moment as well ( honestly from the moment that my name had come out of the glass ball), that wanted nothing more then to curl up with her mother under the stars.

"I know." I whispered, and went to hug him, to hold my little piece of home as he cried. We fell asleep like that, curled up on the couch together. And that's how Elder found us the next morning.

"Up." Was all he said, as he gently shook my shoulder, backing up as I woke. My neck was stretched in an unnatural angle, my back hurt and honestly, my hair was an absolute disgrace, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I was glad that I could offer Nathan a bit of comfort, because I knew no one else would.

"We have to get up and get going-today is the opening ceremonies, you need to meet your stylists."

Stylists. I had never thought about them until that moment. They were some of the most important people in the games- they could make or break a tribute. They were also some of the most freakish people one could ever hope to see. There was one, a tall thin stylist, maybe in her thirties that looked well on her way to becoming a cat. Long whiskers, a tail, and colored skin made her strange looking at best. But her tributes always looked immaculate. But then, she styled only for district one, sometimes two. Never anything higher. I could only hope that my stylists had, at least, a semblance of decency. However, having witnessed the "fashion" the Hunger Games had boasted in the past, I seriously doubted it.

And I was right. My stylist was nothing. I mean it. It was as though she was literally not there. She was skin and bone, and, apparently going for a bug sheik look, her skin and hair dyed a translucent gray that shimmered when she moved. Her eyed were large and…uh…bugged out, tinted the same shimmery gray. Her nails were unnaturally long, her nose was practically not there and her chin was sharpened into a painful looking point. Aramis Braxtin was, apparently the hot new thing on "the Hunger Games scene" and I was lucky to have her. Aramis and her partner, Nathan's stylist, Pryce Winter, met us at the training center floor, Aramis looked pleased, Pryce, less so.

"So here is my beautiful tribute," she smiled as se walked forward, arms outstretched. I did not know what she meant to do, so I hurriedly backed up a few paces before she caught me, roping me into her surprisingly crushing embrace.

"My, my, you are lovelier in person." She cooed, holding me at arms length, "The things I could do with your face…" she trailed off wistfully, brushing one ultra thin hand against my cheekbone.

"Well, no sense in wasting time!" she exclaimed, twirling around and pulling me with her, "the Opening Ceremonies wait for no one!"

"Not even the tributes?' I asked, half under my breath.

"Especially not the tributes." Aramis sniffed, shooing Nathan, Pryce and I into the back seat of a long black car, while she took the front seat.

It was at this time that I got my first real good look at Aramis' partner. Pryce was young, younger then I had expected, but then again, they both were. Well, I assumed Aramis was young, but it was hard to tell with all the alterations. His alterations, on the other hand, were not so outlandish, but (even I had to admit) striking. His coal colored hair seemed to be its natural color, and was slicked back. Intricate tattoos swirled around his eyes and down the right side of his neck, changing color from blue to red to green to violet to black and back again. It was fascinating to me.

He noticed my preoccupation about half way through the trip.

"See something you like?" he asked, his mouth turned up in a cocky Capitol grin.

His comment made me snap back to earth. This was not a field trip, it was a death sentence, and freaks like him were looking forward to watching me die.

"Not at all." I replied calmly, "I was just thinking about how it's amazing that every year without fail Capitol alterations get stranger and stranger. Pretty soon you'll all be unrecognizable."

Pryce's unnaturally golden eyes widened for a moment, as if trying to work out if my comment was meant to be a complement or insult. However, before he could work it out we arrived at, what I assumed was, the other side of, or another part of, the Center.

We had barley arrived when Nathan and I were set upon by our now manic stylists and separated, me into the one on the right, Nathan to the left.

Aramis shut the door behind me, trapping me in the room with three very odd looking people.

"Well let's begin!" she squealed, clapping her hands together. "Cassandra, this is Emmaline, Cladissa and Morgana-your prep team."

The women were identical save their hair color. Emmaline's was a bright yellow, Morgana's, a electric green, and Cladissa's a violent red. All three women are tall and wiry with high cheekbones that are surely surgically enhanced and tiny upturned noses. Emmaline and Morgana smiled, Cladissa did not.

"Girls, I'll leave you to your work." Aramis nodded to the women and walked off into an adjacent room.

As soon as the door closed, Emmaline was upon me.  
'Oh my goodness, I am just so excited to have a decent tribute this year-they only come around once every couple of years."

It was sad really. As I sat there, being buffed and polished and pulled and plucked, I realized just how pathetic their lives really were. I'd thought I'd be jealous of those rich Capitol people and their easy lives, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that that was not the case. How empty life was for them. Emmaline and Morgana were stupid, shallow, and flighty. They knew nothing of the world. It was odd, but I found myself feeling wise and aged in their presence-though they were older then I. And as for Cladissa? All I could think about was how sad it was that she had everything in the world at her fingertips and couldn't even muster up as smile.

When they were finished, I was relived to find that I looked flawless, but recognizable. Aramis, who had come back into the room about half way through my transformation, studied me from a distance, circling me like a predator does its prey. It made me, to say the least, very uncomfortable.

"What shall we do with you?" she asked after a few long moment of silence. I knew it was a rhetorical question and remained silent, pulling my rode tighter around my body.

"Glass…what is there to do with glass that hasn't been done before?" she paused and tapped her finger gently against her barley there lips.

"Ohh-Oh! Me!" Emmaline nearly jumped out of her skin with excitement.

"Yes Emma?"  
"Something shiny." She stated dropping her hand, and looking overly pleased with herself.

"Something…shiny?"

"Yes." Emma nodded emphatically.

"Something shiny…." Aramis trailed off, pulling her eyes away from me and staring off into the distance. "Yes, I think we can do shiny."

"You look gorgeous."

"Radiant!"

'It really is some of my best work."

"She looks ridicules." Cladissa snorted, her nasally growl breaking up the other's praise.

"Come off it Diss." Morgana laughed, "She looks like an angel-she'll be a hit for sure."

"Can I look?" I asked, speaking for the first time in what had felt like hours.

"Oh, of course!" Emma squealed, dragging me to the mirror.

At first all I could comprehend was the light reflected off my dress. Well, if one could call what I was wearing a dress at all. It was completely see through, or would have been if not for the extremely uncomfortable skin colored body suit I was wearing underneath. Basically it was a cloud of tight, silver sheer fabric with geometric glass pieces attached to it. My makeup stuck to bright whites and electric greens. It was all a little overwhelming to be honest. However, my team assured me that I looked absolutely regal. I really hoped so, because I was beginning to hope.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter Six-Show**_

The horse was an odd color. Not that I had any knowledge of such things of course-I had never actually seen a horse in real life until that moment, but I seriously doubted that there were pale blue and lilac horses roaming somewhere in the Districts.

I was standing alone. My prep team had dropped me off more then an hour before and disappeared towards the snack table-I hadn't seen them since. My district partner and his team had not made an appearance, and my mentor was absolutely nowhere to be found. Therefore, I was reduced to standing by ridiculously colored horses in a very uncomfortable dress, watching frazzled Capitol attendants wiz by, talking nervously to each other in high pitched voices.

It felt odd to be alone-I hadn't been truly alone in days, and it was, admittedly, a nice return to what was usually my natural state. But the dress... My mother had a saying-"Look Cassie," she would tug on my arm and nod in the direction of the person of which she was speaking, "That lady is all dressed up with nowhere to go."

And indeed, now I was too.

My attention was dawn to the pair from District One, both striking in red tunics that left very little to the imagination. The girl was especially stunning. With her long blonde hair and golden skin, she looked like something out of an ancient story of gods and goddesses . I wondered if I looked anything close to her. My style team had told me that I did, but they could have just been complementing themselves.

The pair were in deep conversation with the famed Tigris, or cat lady, as my mother called her. Standing near them were their mentors, Lance Kirgen and Jewel Launchre, winners of the 7th and 14th Hunger Games, respectively. Both beautiful, both famous, and both incredibly dangerous. I betted that they were working overtime with their tributes.

Just then, I became aware of a pair of eyes on me. When I turned, I discovered that they belonged to Flash Martin, the male tribute for District Two. Nearing seven feet tall, and at least three hundred pounds of pure muscle, District Two towered over me. He was wearing some sort of body armor, which made him look as intimidating as it made him look fashionable. When our eyes met, he smiled, but not the kind "Hello, how are you today?" smile. No his smile said, "Hello, In a few days I will rip you to shreds."

"Look away."

I jumped when Elder whispered in my ear, not having heard him come up behind me.

"Stay as far away from District Two as possible during the Games," he continued, as I obediently broke eye contact with Flash and turned to face him instead, "Especially the girl. Do everything you can to make sure they don't find you-they like to put on a show, District two does." He said, grimacing, as though plagued by an unpleasant memory.

"The girl?" I asked.

'Yes, Ever Claravelldra. I just overhead heard Flame talking about her-she's deadly. The boy may be bigger and stronger, and he's defiantly something to look out for, but apparently Ever is quite the little demon."

"Thanks." I whispered, my eyes finding Flash's rather unpleasant looking District partner. Like him, she was dressed in deep green body armor, but her face was hidden in shadow, and I couldn't see her expression.

"District One and District Four are evenly tied as far as skill goes," Elder continued in his customary whisper, "But if your going to make friends with any of them, you have your best shot with District Four." He nodded in the direction of Four's tributes, dressed in uncreative net costumes.

"Make friends? With careers?" I asked, shocked that Elder would even mention such a thing.

"It's not a demand," He said, his low voice pacifying me, "but it could help if you tried."

"I would never…" I started, then trialed off. Joining with the people who routinely decimated the rest of us from lower Districts was sickening, but if I could befriend even one of them, it would triple my chances of survival.

"Just think about it." My mentor said, resting his hands on my shoulders.

Just then, Nathan and Pryce decided to make an appearance. Though his costume was not as flashy as mine, Pryce had still gone with the whole "dessert glass" theme, and I had to admit, Nathan actually looked nice in his loose sand colored shirt and pants.

"Alright you two, up you go." Elder, responding to some signal, helped us both up into our cart, and the other tributes around us began to do the same.

'Now remember, smile like you would smile if you were anywhere else, and make them love you."

Make them love you. I could do that. Make them love you. Couldn't I?

And before I knew it, our horses were pulling our carriage forward. Nathan, having been as unprepared for the sudden lurch as I was, had to reach for a fist full of my dress in order to keep himself upright. And just like that we were out in the sun, exposed to the sun and the cheer and jeers of the crowed. It was hot, it was bright, and even through I felt as though I was withering up on the inside, I felt my face spread into what had become my signature smile, my shoulders straighten, and I forced my hand into the air in a victory wave. I was probably going to die. But I would at least give them a good show.


	7. Chapter 7

**I'd like to thank my wonderful beta, who has been nothing but supportive!**

**Please Review!**

**Chapter 7- Performance**

It's hard not to feel like a trained monkey when one is waiting to be scored on their survival skills. This had been the one part of the preparation for the Games that I had not felt prepared for. In fact, I felt underprepared. Because really, what could I do? I was fast, but speed would only help me for so long in the arena once the bigger tributes really got into the games. I know a lot about poisonous snakes. Whoopie. Unless the arena was a snake pit, that would not help me in the slightest. The only skill that would help me, as I revealed to Elder, was one that was not exactly physical.

When I was about seven, my father decided that it was high time for me to learn the art of glass making. He told me the basics and set me to work. I was awful, terrible in fact. My glass cup turned into a blackened melted lump. And surprisingly, blackened melted lumps were not in high demand in the Capitol. My father laughed and told me to try again, but I had about as much luck as the first time. After about a week of this, he finally pulled me aside and showed me. I copied him flawlessly. From then on, whenever he wanted me to help him make glass, he showed me first. And I copied. With wonderful results I copied.

After a while I discovered that my copying ability did not just apply to glass making, but to all areas. Once I saw something done once I could copy it. It was useful, but Elder saw far more potential in it then I did.

"I want you to watch," he said, "Don't do anything in the training sessions, just pick someone out and watch them."

And so I had. District One was great with swords. District Two was pretty much great with anything. Useless, all useless. I was no miracle worker, I was a copier. I would never be able to do what the boy from D1 did with a sword, or the girl from D2 did with a spear. Impractical. A whole bunch of flash for the Capitolian audience. How they loved their show. They loved it so terribly much that they sacrificed even practicality. Yes, D1 and 2 were all flash. They were useless to me. And so I didn't see them at all.

Instead, it was the boy from seven that caught my eye. The one that had made so little of an impression on me during the reaping was quite proficient with the axe. He made the chopping movements graceful, the motion of the blade almost loving in his hands as he hacked one of the numerous dummies to "death". An art, truly. Clayton Ashbrooke, I overheard his fellow tribute call him during one of the lunches. Slight build at first glance, but strong arms. Arms that were used to hard labor. Arms that could use that axe to chop me to bits.

Thus, my "Tributes to Watch" list became longer as I added the unremarkable but talented Clayton to my list. His fellow tribute, I found, was nothing to concern myself with. I watched her for the first two days, anxiously waiting for her to reveal some unknown talent as Clayton had. But no, my first impression of the girl, Lianna Matthews as I uncovered, as plainly pretty, dull and talentless, proved to be the correct one.

Lunch was a quiet affair. Nathan sat by me, I sat by him and we ate. There was not comrodarry between us. Not like there was any between other District pairs, but our silence was somehow more awkward. Neither of us used any of the stations, on my part, it was by choice. Nathan was limited by lack of talent with any of the various weapons laid out daily before us, and therefore had no choice but to confine himself to the edible plants table which I also frequented. We couldn't have been a very impressive pair.

Like a flash, the training sessions were over, girl following a short 30 minnitues later. No doubt they were wowing the Gamemakers with their brilliant swordsmanship. Great.

The hours seemed to fly by. District Two was over in a half hour together, District Three was kept a little longer, most likely because they were confused as to what they should show the Gamemakers. District Three was made up of inventors. Their giants were mental, not physical. Four was also quick. The girl's hair was a much deeper shade of red then I'd thought. I blinked and five was done. I wasn't the only one hyper aware of the passing time, every time the next tribute was called the little girl from Twelve would make a strangled noise like a kitten being stepped on. Six whizzed by, Seven was nonexistent. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat.

And then it was Eight. Alyiss Mark stood, and, briefly, our eyes met. My blue to his black. And then he was gone through the swinging doors at the end of the hall. His District partner began to cry as soon as he was out of sight. Poor girl really didn't have a chance when it came down to it, and it seemed like she knew it. Long dark hair, pale, but probably from working in the factories. Not particularly pretty. Actually, a little sickly looking thing. Agora Flax, I think. I didn't know why I even bothered to learn her name.

But soon, impossibly soon it seemed, her name too was called. And it was at that moment that the daze came over me, much as it had when I had been reaped. I barely registered Nathan's name being called, or his empty seat beside me. The boy from Ten had to prod me when they called mine.

Like a zombie I walked down the endless hallway into the room that could have enough air in it, and stood in front of the people that, in a few days, would be orcastrating my death.

"Well Miss Ellis," the head Gamemaker prodded after a few moments of silence, cranberry sauce dripping down his many chins, "Show us what you can do."

I honestly can't remember what it is that I did exactly. Threw around some weights, ran about the room as fast as I could, and tried to show off my physical stamina. After a while of this I was dismissed with a polite nod and a "thank you." And then I was being directed to my floor where I then directed myself to my room.

Sometime later a Ramona came to rouse me from what she undoubtedly believed to be a cat nap.

"Rise and shine Cassie baby, you're going to be on television again!" she squealed, flicking on the light.

When I didn't answer immediately her voice lost its surgery sweet girly quality, "Come along Cassandra, it's starting soon."

And I had no choice but to follow.

We sat as we did before, all quiet except for Ramona who felt the need to fill every minute with her incessant prattling.

The TV came to life with a flash of the Capitol seal and the first sounding notes of the anthem. The first face to appear was the boy tribute from district one, Gadriel Wingate, six foot two, 180 lbs of pure muscle, it was no surprise to anyone when he scored a nine. His beautiful district partner, Sereaphina Lear was much the same, scoring a predictable eight. Flash and Ever both scored tens, much to the excitement of the announcers. District Three's scores were abysmally low, a three and two respectively. The male from the fishing district, the giant and stoic Kale Hobbs, scored a nine, his partner with red hair, a seven. Five and Six's tributes both scored in the four to six range. Clayton scored an eight, Lianna a four. Alyiss, to the surprise of the announcers, scored a ten.

And then it was District Nine's turn, Nathan score flashed across the screen-a five. And then it was my turn, a six. A perfectly average and unextrodanairy six. Perfect.


End file.
